


Comme Un Cœur A Besoin De Battre

by restless_heart_syndrome



Category: Papillon (2018)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, louis just wants papi to like him and protect him tbh, louis's version of the 'test i didnt study for' dream, panic attack-ish, prolly something romantic there but not in this fic, sleep paralysis-ish, this is pretty abstract tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless_heart_syndrome/pseuds/restless_heart_syndrome
Summary: One night while slowly losing his mind on Devil's Island, Louis Dega has a dream and then a nightmare
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Comme Un Cœur A Besoin De Battre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GloriousGoblinQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriousGoblinQueen/gifts).



> Italics are Louis' thoughts

Louis feels the sun on his face, and smells saltwater.

It's different than what he can smell from the cliffs of devil's island. He opens his eyes to the Marseille dockside as though it were a complete sequitur, as though he hadn't spent years in isolation, in squalor, far removed from this place. 

_Why am I_ _here_?

He tries to remember, but every time he gets close, a fog settles over his mind as would roll off of the Golfe du Lion.

Last time Louis was in Marseille, he was living with his wife and forging defense bonds.

_Is that what I'm doing here? No, that doesn't feel right._

He looks out at the ships small in the distance, at the wharf sitting abandoned. He feels, all of a sudden, very alone.

_Am I here alone?_

As if in response, a hand falls on his shoulder, and a familiar voice rings in his ears:

"Get out of your goddamned head, Dega. Enjoy the view."

Papi smiles when he finishes speaking, letting Louis know that despite his usual gruff tone, he was only joking. And maybe a little concerned.

Louis likes the idea of Papi worrying about him. 

As he observes the ships looming before them, Papi talks about sailing. _Why is he talking about this to me_? He had already shoved it in Louis's face that he knew nothing about sailing. Louis doesn't really question it, though, because he likes listening. By talking to him about something like this, it felt like Papi was trusting him with something.

"...Anyway," he hears Papi say, "That's what you'll need to know. We better get moving." He stands and starts up the street toward the pier.

Dega stands up and tries to follow him, but in what seems like an instant, the crowd fills in, and Papi disappears. Louis is surrounded, cramped even, yet alone. 

He blinks and when he opens his eyes, he is on the decrepit excuse for a boat that they had used in their original escape plan. He sees no land in the distance, only water undulating in disparate patterns and a horizon just as unpredictable, gray and formless but somehow foreboding. 

Celier and Maturette are nowhere to be found; it is only him and Papi. Some part of him knows this, even before he fully surveys his surroundings.

"What is this?" Louis asks. "What exactly is going on?"

"It's okay," Papi tells him. "Trust me." He says more, but it seems to fade into the background, into the sea.

Louis just swallows and nods. In the distance, a flash of lightning, the first rumblings of thunder. The water continues rocking them uneasily, pummeling them here and there with a sizable wave as it saw fit.

Little snippets of conscious thought appear to Louis and the path to realization opens up - _I'm getting deja vu. This has happened before. But it's not like before. Something's not right_. _Is it a dream? -_ but it seems to close just as quickly and he just doesn't quite get there. He is beginning to feel uneasy, but he can't pinpoint why.

Then, a paradigm shift: he thinks _even if I am dreaming, could I stop it if I wanted to? **Do** I want to?_

A seed of panic planted.

The reality of the situation sinks in sort of in pieces. Like a pattern forming as component parts are reunited, pictures materializing out of darkness as one's eyes adjust, as they reach a conclusion much like his own: that the light will not be returning, that reality simply is as it is and he must adapt accordingly or perish for want of the nonexistent.

Louis's panic grows. He scans in a circle, surveying the current predicament, the hopeless atmosphere of its real-life inspiration coming to settle in his stomach. He still can see no land in any direction and the storm is rolling, taunting them, just loud enough at this point to interrupt the fruitless drone of their conversation. The low roar of the disquieted sky was omnipresent, ebbing and flowing but slowly building in intensity, the crack of thunder occasionally interrupting.

Louis's eyes dart around restlessly, searching for something unknown, something to focus his attention on and tamp down the panic that had burrowed into the base of his spine and was making its way up, reaching out across his nerves, singeing them in its wake even as his extremities grew cold. His eyes settle on Papi - he's speaking with a concerned look on his face, but Dega can only make out every third word or so, and it is getting worse, the billowing clouds and darkening sky indifferent to his confusion. Thunder claps split up and distort Papi's words, their effect almost as a strobe light on vision and Dega unable to form the full picture, senses playing catchup, the panic still worming into his forethought, begging for more attention at the periphery of his senses and further dismantling his powers of comprehension.

The storm is in full effect, the sky black, when suddenly the next bolt of lightning seems to light up the whole sky, too-bright light crowding out Louis's vision. 

He can't see Papi. He can't see anything. There is only bright light and white noise. It feels like he is in a void, a vacuum.

He screams, but no noise comes out. He screams and screams, as loudly as he can, growing more and more frantic as the feeling of hopelessness bottoms out and the panic overflows-

He wakes up still screaming. 

He catches his breath, too raw for a few moments to even think about whether anyone heard him or be embarrassed. Those sorts of feelings were beginning to fade, anyway.

Isolation does not make a strict adherent to the social contract, after all.

Finding nothing on the walls to help center him, he turned toward the ceiling, toward his haphazardly-made paintings, little hieroglyphs telling the story of his lift and what his path to hell had been paved with.

He decided he would paint more today. Pictures of boats and storm clouds and the sea. 

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of the dream is inspired by the 1923 film Cœur fidèle, which is set in Marseille, where Dega was based as a counterfeiter. I found the idea of Papi & Dega draped over each other on the dockside like Marie and Jean to be very adorable. This isn't as on-the-nose (since it's a dream after all), but that's the mood my dudes.


End file.
